Encounters
by dark in the shadow of my heart
Summary: Four encounters. Four chances. D/G one-shot.


The first time they meet is at one of the Holyhead Harpies social events. She is their top Chaser, ranked #3 Sexiest Quidditch Player Alive in a poll by _Wizard Weekly._ She is the glorious centrepiece of the event, all porcelain legs and endless crimson hair, laughing delightfully at all the right points, throwing in witty remarks and hilarious anecdotes. All the males are drooling over her, but she seems not to notice, or at least does well at hiding it.

He is there on behalf of his girlfriend Astoria, who somehow wheedled them VIP passes from a source within the team itself. Looking on from afar, he lolls against a pillar, dapper in a navy suit, as though he had just stepped from the pages of Vogue.

"Malfoy," she says by way of greeting, passing him a glass of Firewhiskey.

"Weasley," he replies shortly, taking the drink and shamelessly looking her up and down. "Puberty was certainly kind to you."

She arches an eyebrow. "Are you paying me a compliment?"

"No, merely implying that your younger days were severely unattractive."

A laugh leaves her lips before she takes a sip of her drink. "Ever the charmer. I assume that stuck up stick-in-a-wig is your girlfriend?"

She gestures to where Astoria is standing, wearing the skimpiest dress in the vicinity and flirting non-too-subtly with the Harpies seeker, Michael Gutbroke.

"Astoria Greengrass, with more Galleons to a strand of her hair than the entire of the Harpies," he sneers.

"Don't kid yourself, Malfoy," Ginny smirks, "first in the League, three years in a row."

"More than can be said for that pathetic team of your Weasel King brother's," he retorts.

"True," she says fairly, "but my 'Weasel King brother' was named the best Keeper the Cannons have ever had just last week, so do your homework."

"Not hard, with their history."

They bicker for a while, and neither are sure quite when it crosses the line from snarky insults to flirtatious teases, but it does.

Astoria wends her way over and makes a show of kissing Draco, before glaring down her aristocratic nose at Ginny, her manicured hand possessively placed on his arm.

"You play Beater, if I'm correct in saying?" Astoria asks, much too sweetly.

"Chaser, actually," Ginny replies, looking distinctly bored by Astoria's words as she swills her drink absentmindedly.

"Oh, sorry," Astoria says with a tinkling giggle, "I just assumed, you know, from your _build_..." She raises her eyebrows, cold eyes deliberately raking Ginny's figure.

"Not all of us would snap with one touch," Ginny retorts, and Draco commends her internally for her maintained tone of boredom. "I expect Draco here has to go very carefully with you in bed."

As Astoria opens her mouth furiously, a pink flush blossoming on her high cheekbones, Ginny gives her a last vindictive smirk and stalks away.

"I congratulate you," Draco says half an hour later, when Astoria has flounced back to Michael Gutbroke, "not many people can bring Astoria off her high horse without being trampled."

"Growing up ridiculed for my lack of wealth has its merits," she replies simply, "I've kinda learnt not to take shit from rich people." Her eyes focus on something beyond him. "Oh, _Witch Weekly_ are gonna have a field day."

Draco follows her gaze to see his girlfriend locked together with Gutbroke, playing a fierce battle of tonsil tennis. "Once again," he sighs, rolling his eyes and turning back to Ginny.

"Why don't you just finish it?" she frowns.

"Sex," he says bluntly.

"Prick," she says. "Anyway, looks she's never had a good night in her life."

Draco cocks an eyebrow. "How would you define a good night?"

"All in good time," she says, wagging a finger and winking.

Paparazzi are already crowding around Astoria and Gutbroke, who are apparently oblivious.

"Poor bloke," Ginny says.

"Didn't you used to go out with him?"

"And how would you know that? Been following my movements?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley," he says, "I do read _Wizard Weekly_ occasionally."

"How vulgar," she comments, "they wanted me to some raunchy shoots, but - oh, they just left."

Draco looks back to the gaggle of _Witch_ and _Wizard Weekly_ reporters. Both his girlfriend and Gutbroke are gone. "I don't think I'll be going back to our manor tonight," he says dispassionately. "Oh Merlin, they're coming over to heckle me now."

"Publically announce your breakup," Ginny suggests, "I'd love to see her face when she reads the front page tomorrow."

"I'd rather just get out of here," he says, as the paparazzi make a beeline for him, cameras flashing.

"Fair enough," says Ginny, "have it your way."

She grabs his hand and they Disapparate.

The first thing he registers is that it's dark, and he can smell something distinctly flowery.

"You're welcome," Ginny says, much too close to him. Her breath on his neck causes him to shiver slightly.

The lights flicker on and she is illuminated, slightly flustered from the Apparition, her long red hair cascading behind her and her cleavage much too prominent in her emerald dress.

"I do believe a Weasley just helped out a Malfoy for the first time," he says, his voice low and gravelly.

"Always here to help," she replies softly.

She doesn't back away. Indeed, she seems all the closer, her lips parted, a single red hair trailing down her shoulder.

"I'm glad," he replies, his voice now slightly strained. _It's the Firewhiskey_, he tells himself, _she's still a Weasley_. "I thought you couldn't Disapparate from in there."

"Being #3 Sexiest Quidditch Player Alive has its compensations," she grins.

_Don't look at her,_ he tells himself. "Well, there'll be another scandal for them to print tomorrow." He can't help it. He looks at her, and there is no going back. "About that good night you were talking about..."

She smirks triumphantly and with a snap of her fingers it is dark again. "I think I can define that for you."

He leaves before she wakes up, and wishes he had a Pensieve to get her out of his head.

* * *

The second time is a year later, in a run down bar, following two very public breakups.

"Fancy seeing you again," she says hollowly, staring into the depths of her glass. "I expect you've come to gloat."

"Quite the contrary, Weasley. You always expect the worst of me."

"I'm Weasley again am I?" she asks, looking at him properly for the first time.

"You're always Weasley," he says shortly, tapping on the top of the bar for another drink.

Ginny just shakes her head tiredly. "Okay. So you finally ended things with her?"

"After the sixth man I found in my bed-"

"The _sixth_?" Ginny repeats, eyes wide.

"That's what I said. I decided enough was enough. Not that she really cared. She'd got the publicity she wanted. I think she's seeing that Gutbroke bloke again."

Ginny snorts. "I hope they're happy."

"So what happened with the Chosen Boy?" Draco asks, gulping his drink, "love you and leave you?"

"Something like that," she mutters.

"He's hurt your pride if anything," he comments.

"Maybe it needed hurting," she sighs, "maybe it all got to my head."

"What did?"

"The fame. #3 Sexiest Quidditch Player Alive." She gives a long sigh. "I took myself off the team."

"You what?" Draco says incredulously. "You're not as clever as I thought, Weasley. I thought you knew better than to get caught up on Scar Head again."

"I'm not," she snaps.

"So the Harpies just let you walk away, did they?"

"Well, no, not-"

"There you go then. You're going back and taking back your resignation. They'll be on their knees begging for you."

Running her hands through her unkempt hair, Ginny lets the tears fall. Draco merely sits there, watching thoughtfully, occasionally taking a sip from his drink.

When the tears have dried, she looks up at him. "I just need an outlet."

"I know."

He kisses her then, hard.

After a few long moments, she pulls away. "Thanks."

"That was all?" he says.

"Yeah."

"Always here to help."

She smiles, then gets up and leaves silently.

He watches the swing of her red hair out of the door and then calls for another drink.

* * *

The third time is not by chance. It is two months later, and Draco wakes in the early hours of the morning to an incessant hammering on his front door and his security enchantments going haywire.

"Okay, okay," he groans, flicking his wand to silence the enchantments and sliding out of bed. Pulling on a pair of boxers and an old T-shirt, he stumbles down the stairs.

He opens the door with trepidation, his wand held aloft, and is surprised to see Ginny on his doorstep.

She looks less worse-for-wear than their last meeting, but her hair is still tousled and she wears a look of great dejection. Her eyes drop immediately, taking in his obvious lack of trousers, and he makes no effort to conceal himself.

After a tense pause, she looks back into his face. "Malfoy." She steps into the hallway without invitation.

"Weasley," he says, closing the door in her wake and turning to face her, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where will I find your drawing room?" she asks, glancing around at the many doors and ignoring his question.

An eyebrow disappears into Draco's platinum fringe. "Not my bedroom?"

"Not tonight," she says stiffly.

"Drawing room: third door on your right."

She turns and enters the room.

Following her, he grabs a pair of jeans from the stair bannister and pulls them on hastily.

He finds her nestled on one of his large leather sofas, her knees brought up to her chest, looking rather like a small child.

Waving his wand, Draco conjures a fire in the grate and turns on several lamps. Then he drops onto the sofa beside her.

"I've come from Harry's house," she informs him, the light of the flames dancing in her eyes.

Draco curses. "For Merlin's sake, Weasley. So you had sex?"

"Not quite," she replies. "He wanted to, but I left. He's screwing up my head."

"I thought he finished things."

"He did." She sighs. "That's why it's so messed up. Now he wants me back, and I don't have the bloody self control to say no."

"You just did."

"To _sex_," she says, "not to being with him again." She passes a hand over her forehead. "I loved him for so long. I half wonder if I should just go back to him now..."

Draco seizes her wrist. "Don't you dare. If you came to me for advice then this it: don't go crawling back into Potter's bed. You'll be all the worse for it."

There is a moment when their eyes meet; cold grey burning into warm chocolate. Then he releases her hand and she looks into the fire again.

"And just out of interest, how did you know where I lived?" he asks, giving a casual flick of his wand so a bottle of mead and two glasses appear before them.

She takes her preferred glass and shrugs. "I know people. You know people. It's only logical that we'd have a mutual friend who could tell me."

"I'm flattered," he smirks, watching her closely for her reaction.

"Don't be," she says, sipping her drink, "you're the only one who's straight with me. I know not to expect sympathy."

"I'm wounded, Weasley," he says, raising his hand to his heart in mock hurt.

She looks at him sharply. "When are you going to start calling me by name?"

"'Weasley' is your name."

"My first name, you prat."

There is a slight grin on his face. "Old habits die hard... Ginny."

She wrinkles her nose. "Maybe not, actually. Doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth." She takes a sip of mead. "I also have this weird idea that you're nocturnal. Not many people I know would answer the door at this time of night."

"It was hard to avoid it, with my security enchantments going beserk and waking up half of England," he deadpans. "And for the record - I have normal sleeping times. Just for future reference."

"I'll remember that," she says with a laugh.

They are silent for a long time after that, and the bottle of mead steadily empties and refills.

After several too many drinks, Ginny begins to cry. She is quite silent. Draco watches the tears run their course.

"I'm such a fuck up," she says eventually, her words slurred and hoarse.

"Don't be stupid," he answers, and with a wave of his wand the mead vanishes.

She looks up at him with a frown as he tucks his wand back into his pocket.

"Don't want you drinking yourself into a stupor," he explains.

She doesn't reply, and he observes her, drunk and tearful, cradling her knees.

After a while she grows sleepy, and her head finds its way onto his shoulder. He automatically puts his arm around her.

As her breathing evens, he reflects on the fact that, in any normal circumstances, he would be inclined to take advantage of a vulnerable young woman in his house. As he holds her, listening to her steady breaths and inhaling her distinctive floral scent, he wonders why he didn't.

She is gone when he awakes, leaving nothing but a trace of flowers on his clothes, and it is a long time before he can bring himself to wash them.

* * *

The final time is back where they started. The Harpies have just finished top of the League 5 years in a row, and are holding a civilised party.

With no Astoria to get him in this time, he is surprised to receive an owl with an anonymous invitation. But he thinks it would be impolite to reject it, so he attends.

He sees her immediately across the room; she is laughing, and her hair catches the light and shimmers like embers. She is beautiful. More beautiful than ever. He is already gravitating towards her when an arm catches him in the chest and he turns to face the Harpies Seeker, a striking dark girl by the name of Celestia Richardson.

"I haven't seen you before," she says, raising an eyebrow suggestively, her chest heaving slightly in her too-small golden gown.

"This is only my second time," he says, taking a step away from her.

"Celestia," she tells him boldly, leaning in to plant a sticky kiss on his cheek. Her next words fall seductively into his ear. "Care to get better acquainted else where?"

"No," he says shortly, non-too-gently extracting her from him.

She pouts. "But don't you think-"

"Excuse me? That's my boyfriend you're taking to, Celestia."

She is at his side, her eyebrows raised, one hand on her hip and the other resting on his arm. The room is suddenly hot and electric.

"Oh," says Celestia, looking mortified, "oh. Sorry, Ginny..."

"Trot along, now," Ginny says sweetly, and Celestia does not hesitate to obey.

"Thanks," Draco says, his eyes falling onto her. She is smiling up at him, and the place on his arm she was just holding burns as if he is scalded.

"No problem," she grins, "you looked like you needed help. And I guess I kind of owe you."

"You can say that again. You look amazing," he adds.

A pink blush settles in her cheeks. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."

"Finally got rid of Scarhead then?"

She snorts. "Yeah. Astoria's here, by the way."

His eyes scan the room for his ex-girlfriend. "Yeah. I guessed she would be. I saw in the paper about her and Gutbroke."

"Eloped just last week," she says, rolling her eyes, "Merlin help him."

"So you've not..." Draco begins awkwardly, "I mean, you've not..."

"Found anyone else?" she finishes.

"No. You?"

"No," he says quickly.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah."

Their eyes meet, and this time the air seems to be sizzling.

"Draco," she says breathlessly.

It seems to take a lifetime for him to finally claims her lips with his.

There are catcalls and wolf whistles, and he is dimly aware of the flashes of cameras, before he becomes completely, gloriously oblivious.

All he knows is the girl in his arms, and when they break apart, he just holds her tightly, and this time, he does not let her go.

* * *

**So I hope you liked that! It's my first so don't be too harsh ;) reviews would mean a lot.**


End file.
